


Blue

by Chiru



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, the other one dies for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiru/pseuds/Chiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise's mouth is dry. He feels his heart heavy, exerting a steady pressure against his chest. His ribs tighten around his lungs. There isn't enough space in him for all his organs. He swallows. It doesn't help.</p>
<p>The messenger nods at the phone. A land-line of the studio. He'd never used it before. He didn't even know there was such a thing. With clammy hands he rises the phone to his ear, and time stops.</p>
<p> <br/><i>Aominecchi...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

A jittery melody echoes through the room, jostling the air with soft vibrations. It sounds three times without interruption. There are no annoyed grumbling sounds, no pissy pulling of sheets over a head, no squeak of the mattress as a body turns to bury it's face into a pillow. Something is off.

Kise awakes at the alarm's second coming, confused by the emptiness in the room, despite the sounds emitted by his phone. He opens his eyes, blinks, confused by his rhythm being thrown off as it was by these little mistakes, little inconsistencies with how his day is supposed to start. A blind reach for his phone to avoid another snooze, but his other doesn't even need to swing aside to confirm what he can feel by the give of the bed.

He wakes up alone.

Nobody can claim Kise is clingy, overly attached or jealously possessive, but he hates- absolutely despises waking up alone. Feelings of abandonment and rejection fill his core as he sits up and glares at the empty spot besides him. His mood is ruined already. He huffs, drags himself out of bed and into the shower.

Stupid Ahominecchi.

 

*

_Shit. Shit... no, this can't be it... not like this._

*

 

He checks his phone, clad in only a pair of green briefs, towel draped around his shoulders, and glares at the thing as if it's it's fault that he has no messages or missed calls. He pushes the nagging sense of worry to the back of his head. It wasn't the first time Aomine pulled this kind of stupid shit on him. Although, he didn't think the fight had been that bad, honestly. He barely even remembers what it was about. Empty milk cartons in the fridge? No, that wasn't quite it. Giving a bit too much attention to some fan or another? Uh, nope, had that a few days ago, and Aominecchi only sulked for about an hour. They wouldn't repeat the same bicker-routine this soon after. Besides, no new clingy fans had had a change to pop up in the meanwhile. Maybe- ah, yes, that was it. Basketball.

Kise sighs. He loves the sport, and he loves his stupid basket-nerd boyfriend. He didn't mean to not play for this long. He never wished for his aptitude to fall back this much, but what choice did he have? He had a high-paying job that left him ragged and wasted by the end of the day. He couldn't dodge his responsibilities on a whim anymore like he did when he was new in the industry. And hadn't Aomine himself been one of the most persistent ones about him taking care of himself after his injury years ago? He couldn't blame him for not overworking himself even _more_ now! That really wasn't fair!  
  
Still he tries to call, but the phone is off.

Stupid Ahominecchi.

 

*

_Fuck no. I- I won't let it. I'm not done yet. There's still... still so much more!..._

*

 

His phone was off for the rest of the morning, and Kise fought hard against the growing worries, focusing on his shoot, blocking out the outside world. He wasn't paranoid, and this was nothing new. Even though it seemed over the top... surely, it means nothing.  
  
It did though. It meant the world.  
  
He sees the fidgety figure standing beside the director, eyes avoiding the model. A silent whisper exchanged, and the one in control's posture fell. An unexpected break, Kise figures. When the man calls for the end of the shoot, despite being not even halfway the wardrobe, Kise's stomach falls.  
  
This is bad. Whatever it is.  
  
The messenger shuffles towards him, says something concerning a phone-call, drags him off the set. Kise's mouth is dry. He feels his heart heavy, exerting a steady pressure against his chest. His ribs tighten around his lungs. There isn't enough space in him for all his organs. He swallows. It doesn't help.  
  
The young man nods at the phone. A land-line of the studio. He'd never used it before. He didn't even know there was such a thing. With clammy hands he rises the phone to his ear, and time stops.  
  
Aominecchi...

 

*

_It hurts. It hurts so bad... why... why did they... fucking damn... cold. So cold..._

*

 

Kise sat at the end of the cold corridor, three seats between him and other presents. The air was cold, the floor was cold, the walls were a nasty provocative all-but-calming white. Nothing to distract him. Nothing to help him think of anything else. Not that he could think. His mind was dysfunctional, fluctuating between silent despair and the all-swallowing desire to just sleep. His body sat limp, exhausted. The flow of tears has decreased to a steady slip in perfect silence.  
  
Kuroko sat down next to him, offered a bottle of water. He didn't notice until he tapped it gently against his knee, snapping the blond out of his trance. “Ah, thanks Kurokocchi!” His smile trembled and held for barely a second before shattering. He swallowed, composed his face, accepted the drink, opened it and drank. He didn't even notice the liquid sliding down his throat. He didn't notice the worried glance the shadow cast to him.

Heavy footsteps approached, and a golden and a blue pair of eyes lifted to meet the nearing man. Kagami stopped in front of Kise and sighed, hand on his neck, looking apologetic.

“They don't want us to see him. And t-they don't know a date yet for the... for the funeral either.”

“Kagamicchi is so reliable in a crisis situation.” Another glimpse of a smile. This one didn't hold on for much longer than the previous. “I would have never guessed.” The blonde noticed a tear slide down his face, and wiped it away in surprise, nearly embarrassed. Neither of the other young men bothered to point out that the steady slide had never really stopped. It wouldn't either, not for a while.

  
  
*

_I can't die here... I never even said that- that I... fuck. Fuck, Kise, please... please..._

*

 

A cheerful melody filled the air, prompting the occupants of the room to wake up. There was a ruffle at his side, a soft groan before the bed creaked subtly when a light body turned. Kise didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to: they'd never even shut. He'd seen the change of lights play on the ceiling the whole night through, and let his mind wonder. It hadn't wondered far. It just replayed the last 48 hours over and over and over again.

Waking up, Daiki by his side, slinging a arm over the grumpy blue head, snuggling into the broad back as the man grumbled about the time and alarm and sunlight. Dragging the man to his feet, into the shower. How he woke up halfway being undressed, pushed him to the wall. The feeling of his tongue on his, the warmth of his hands on his hips. The stream of water cleaning the newly added dirt.

Breakfast. Small talk, grumpy responses. A sigh falling from those chapped lips as he explained it was another busy day for him. The way he'd dragged his body off the chair, scratched the back of his head, mumbled something about his day being ruined and returning to bed. Biting his cheek instead of kissing it as goodbye. The yell he got in response, barely audible over his giggles as he left their apartment. 

Work. A photo-shoot, a gym routine to keep his body toned, an interview for a magazine, a short meeting about a new job offer. His manager complaining about- about something. Not important. Doesn't matter. Move on, move on.

Getting home, nobody there. A call to meet at the nearby court- the smooth waves of his voice over the phone, not quite like the real thing. A quick change of clothes, running out again, meeting up. Playing. Losing. Losing again. A huff. Another loss. The weight of his heavy limbs, incapable of keeping up, exhausted already from a day of running around and working out. The way his smooth and elegant body moved. Moves he couldn't quite keep up with, not anymore. Staring, smiling, enjoying. Another huff. A glare. Harsh words, anger. He was disappointed in him, it was in his eyes, in his stance, in his aura. Certain victory. It bored him. He didn't want to be boring. But he was too tired.

An apology. One last huff. A “forget it” that sounded as tired as he felt. A dribble, a shot, score. Then he left, without another word, without looking back again. A sigh, biting his lip. Returning home.

Time passing. Time passing.

Time passing.

A text.  
»» Where are you?  
  
No reply.

Another text.  
»» Please come home Aominecchi \\(´A `)/

No reply.

A call.

No answer.

Last text.  
»» Don't pout too long and come back home, the bed's cold /(;3;)\

But nowhere in Kise's reminiscing could he locate the last breathe.

 

*

_Help me, Kise... Save me... just once more- fuck!_

*

 

Aomine had always claimed that Kise was the one. Despite losing to Kagami and Kuroko, it was Kise's struggle that truly reminded him what it was to care. The pair opened his eyes, but it was Kise that reminded him what it was like to fight hard, to want to win more than anything. To love.  
  
Kise started winning their one-on-one's. It started with a fluke, but before they knew it Aomine found himself struggling, really struggling, on a regular basis. He lost, he won, he lost again. He fell in love. Or maybe he always had been. He wasn't sure.

Kise answered eagerly to his advances.

“Since when have you known?” Aomine asked, puzzled, right after their enthusiastic yet awkward first kiss.

“Just now. But I think I've always... maybe...”

He didn't need to finish. Aomine knew exactly what he meant.

 

*

_No, no- I- I don't want to. I'm not- not ready- I c- can- ugh..._

*

 

He sat at the table for most of the day, looking through photos of the tanned boy. He knew he couldn't pick the photo for the wake, but he choose one for himself anyway. He asked Kuroko to make a few copies of it, then put it in a nice frame, next to his bed, and snickered at how corny it was. How awfully melodramatic. Aomine would have absolutely hated it. Somehow it was more reason to do it exactly like that, and when Kuroko said he was going for groceries he asked him to pick up a bouquet of white flowers too. He giggled when he placed them next to the photograph, tears streaming down his face.

Despite him claiming their presence was unnecessary, Kuroko and Kagami stayed the whole day. Kasamatsu passed by to visit too. Midorima called. He and Takao stopped by, an hour later, and came baring gifts: a box of pastries from Murasakibara and Aomine's lucky item.

Kise laughed, dragged the green haired man with to the bedroom, and place everything on the bedside table, by the picture and flowers. His eyes shone bright, but only a tear or two escaped to his cheeks.

 

*

_Ry- Ryouta..._

*

 

It was only the next day that he heard the full story of how his boyfriend lost his life. He'd already heard he'd been stabbed, and lost too much blood to be saved by the time he was brought in. A mugging gone wrong, they said, the culprits already detained.  Died at a basketball court too- words that broke his heart.

Momoi knocked on his door. Kuroko opened. The phantom had still refused to leave. He probably knew that what Kise needed now was company. Kise himself didn't quite know if that was true, but he made no effort to make the former sixth man leave. He wasn't a big fan of being alone anyway, and he was sure there was more of that than he was comfortable with in his future. As it was, nights were more than enough alone-time. Too much.

Momoi apologized- said it was hard for her to come here now that Aominecchi was gone. Kise kind of understood what she meant. It was hard to be here. Somehow he thought it'd be harder to leave though. He wasn't sure why.

The young woman's eyes were rimmed red from all the crying. Kise felt bad for her. He hadn't considered her for even an instance when he heard the news, of course she'd be broken over it, of course she'd need a shoulder to cry on. He should have been there for her, but he hadn't. He'd let himself be pampered by Kuroko and Kagami instead, keeping them all to himself too.

Then again, the woman had probably been at the Aomine household. And it wasn't like he was welcome there.

“I'm sorry...” She started as she was seated at the kitchen table.  
  
“Ah, no, Momoicchi, I'm sorry! I didn't even come to visit you and-”  
  
She shook her head. “The funeral is in two days. But I- Ki-chan...” Tears fell to the table. “His- his parents, they...” her voice was lost in sobs.

The blonde placed a silent hand on her shoulder and waited patiently for her to calm down. He didn't cry. He wondered if he'd cried all he had to cry, and had no tears left.

“They don't... want you there.”  
  
Kise's heart beat. Time ticked. Just a second passed, but there it was. Time, moving, and him with it.

“What? Are you serious, Momoi-san?!” Kuroko's voice, normally so deadpan, sounds strange, like a hint of anger hiding in it. No, not anger. Outrage.

“I- I've been tryin- trying to convince them but- but-”  
  
“But they never approved anyway, so why would they. They probably don't want to soil their son's funeral with that one foolish mistake he refused to admit.” His voice sounds cold and unlike his own, even to his own ears. And yet another second passes. His lungs unclench, his heart beats again.

“Dai-chan loved you! You were never a mistake to him!” Momoi yells, half in despair. How many times had she said that in the last day, he wonders faintly.

“I know.” His heart beats heavy, painfully- seems to be doing it's best effort to break itself on his ribcage. He gasps for air, swallowed hard, steels himself. He reaches for something to his left, and pulls out one of the copies of his favourite photograph, handing it over to the pink haired woman. “I was thinking this one. What do you think, Momoicchi?”

Tears rise again to her eyes. The Aomine in the picture was a sweating mess, staring to the side, away form the camera as he cleaning off his forehead with his jersey, a smirk adorning his lips, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“It's perfect, Ki-chan...”  
  
“I'm not going to ruin their funeral.” He says, determined. “I'll hold my own in that case. You're invited, of course.” He smiles. It holds, to everybody's surprise, seen the death and empty acceptance in his eyes.

Slowly Kise starts realizing the truth; starts coming to terms with it.

His boyfriend is not coming back, but that is not the end.

 

*

_If I could just... one- one las- last t- t- time... I... I'd...._

*

 

He'd been at the court by the park. People always said it wasn't a safe area, but they'd never headed their words. They were both around 1,90 meters tall and well built men to top it off- who in their right mind would mess with them? So they used to play there sometimes, when their usual court was taken. They'd never stay out too long anyway. Nothing to worry about.

But that night Aomine had been alone, and he hadn't cared about the emptying of the area or the groups that passed by, focused loosely on emptying his mind of his worries, lulled to calm by the sound of his dribble, the touch of the ball, the smooth swoosh of a point scored.

He hadn't noticed the group until they stood right behind him. There were three of them, all smaller than him. Though they wore a menacing atmosphere like some sort of trophy, Aomine wasn't impressed.  
  
“What are you doing out here all alone?” One of the bastards asked, smugly.

With a deadpan that'd make Kuroko proud, Aomine dribbled the ball a single time. “Having tea.”

“ Tch- you making fun of us, you asshole?!”  
  
“Stop being funny and hand over your money and your phone!” The man on the middle pulled out a knife, and pointed it at the basketball player. The target didn't seem overly impressed. It wasn't his first street fight, and he knew his way around a knife. Most times pretend delinquents like this were too scared to actually use it anyway. He failed to see the threat.  
  
“Hey, wait, aren't you that dude that usually plays with that pretty blond?”  
  
“Huh? Oh, you're right, he is he is! Heh, your boyfriend not here today? What happened, you broke up?” The three sniggered.

Aomine didn't even deign that worthy of a reply, and kept silence, staring at them impassively.

“Pity he isn't here, maybe we'd get a bonus with his wallet! He has such a pretty mouth after all...”

Aomine sighed. “I don't know why you're trying to provoke me, but if you want a fight,” he threw the ball full force at the middle guy's face, hitting it dead one, “you only need to ask.”  
  
The man yelled and held his face. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!”  
  
And with just that, the fight had started. And all was good, he landed a few decent punches, took a few scrapes in return, but nothing of much worth. Until he felt an excruciating pain in his side. The attackers backed off, surprised, and Aomine stared at the knife stuck into his midriff, deep till the hilt. He blinked, feeling lightheaded. _What the heck?_

His assailants seemed to agree, and stared, confused and disorientated, as he dropped to his knees. _Fuck. Fuck this shit hurt so fucking bad._

“Shit- that wasn't- I- fuck!”  
  
“Just- just grab his things and let's get the fuck away from here!”

He saw them fly to his things, snatch his wallet and mobile phone before running off with their tails between their legs. He tried to reach out, tell them to not, to leave his things, to call an ambulance, to leave his phone at least, but no words left his lips, and he fell to the unforgiving pavement. He groaned, loudly, and reached for his injury.

He was bleeding, bleeding a lot. It looked bad. Midorima would know if it was as bad as it looked, but the green haired freak wasn't there. Shit, he'd really fucked up. Kagami would probably say it was to be expected, because he's an idiot. Well, takes one to know one. Satsuki... shit, Satsuki would kick his ass so bad for this injury. What if he didn't recover? What if he was never able to play at full power again? Shit... no he couldn't let that happen.

He tried to crawl to the exit, so somebody, somebody would be able to see him. He didn't get far before the world started swirling around him, his sight failing him, limbs trembling and weak. He crashed to the floor once more.

Shit... this was bad. This was actually bad. Where was everybody? Now would be a pretty good time to show up out of the blue, Tetsu. Heck, even Murasakibara would have taken the time to call somebody for him. But there was nobody, was there? And Kise, would insisted he'd always stay by his side-

_Fuck. Kise..._

He didn't care how bad it looked. He wouldn't disappoint him again. There's no way he'd let things end like this!

 

*

_Shit... Kise... I'm... sorry...._

*

 

He comes up with the idea himself. Maybe he read it online or in a magazine a few years back and just remembered, he isn't sure. He can't say for sure if it'd help, but a piece of paper and a pen are considerably cheaper than a shrink. Besides, he didn't want to share. He already shared himself with the world due to his job, so he figures he has the right to keep Aominecchi to himself. He can be a little selfish too, right?  
  
So he writes.

 

> Dear Ahominecchi,
> 
> You stupid baka! I really really hate you right now. You know that, right? You're an egotistical bastard. It's even surprising you let somebody else kill you. No “the only one that can kill me is me” here, ey? … I guess you truly are over that. That's good, Ahominecchi can grow and learn after all.  
>  Hey, I'm... I'm really fucking angry. I mean it. You leaving me behind, all alone, again? You promised... you promised you wouldn't do that again. Ever again. But you did. Fuck, your last words to me were even "forget it"! How are you going to make it up to me now, huh?!
> 
> I... I dunno what to do. I miss you, I miss you so damn much I don't know what to do with myself. I miss you most of all in the mornings, with your stupid grumpy face and raw voice. I'll never wake up to you again, and it pisses me off. So much. What now, huh? Do I have to find somebody else to wake up to? I don't want that, you stupid baka! I don't want to move on and live a long and happy life, I want you! But you're too much of an asshole to stay, dammit.
> 
> Don't worry about me ok. Enjoy your stupid death. I'll be ok. Never good, because you're not here, but I won't do anything stupid like following you. You were the one to break our baka-combi, I guess all I have to do is follow your lead, like usual.
> 
> I hate you.
> 
> Bye,
> 
> Ryouta

 

And he folds the paper, puts it in an envelope, and places it on the shrine. The absurd, corny, horrible shrine he's build around Aomine's nightstand. He is certain the tanned man must hate it. If he could see from above, Kise was sure his boyfriend would be grinding his teeth at the horrible display. The thought brings a smile to his lips and tears to his eyes. That shrine was certainly the best idea he'd ever had, he thinks, when he replaces the old with fresh flowers.

_Payback, for dying on me, you bastard._

 

*

_Bye..._

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I read Yellow a few days ago ~~while stalling on work~~. And have read a few other dead!Kise fics. Why always Kise, though? So yeah, instead of any normal fan, I wanted to inverse the thing rather than write happy fluffy nonsense between my otp ~~instead of working~~.  
>  Go figure.
> 
> ( Ultimate apologies for my inability to come up with a title that wasn't this ;__;U)  
>  ~~(Also, late happy birthday Kise, I killed your boyfriend for you!)~~


End file.
